No Fountain of Youth at the Beach

I have a public service announcement: THERE IS NO FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH IN PANAMA CITY BEACH, FL! At least, not that I found over the course of a week. Truth be told, this trip made me feel old. Older than I actually am. I spent 8 nights and days there and guess how many times my faulty body let me actually go down to the beach. 2 (two) visits to the sugar white sand. And two was all I could muster.


The first trip was during the day. I had no umbrella or pop up tent to block the rays from burning my pasty white skin. Mixed connective tissue disease means stay out of the sun. The medications I take for this disease all have warnings about sun exposure meaning stay out at ALL cost. So I loaded down with SPF 100 cream and I went for about one hour to the beach. I watched from afar as my 6-year-old and 37-year-old husband/kids played. Doing things I can not do any longer even though I really want to.
When you go on a trip like this, something we used to do all of the time with no problems what-so-ever, that whole spoon theory really comes into play.

My 6-year-old doesn’t understand it and I don’t expect him to. I don’t even want him to.  He persistently begged me to go to the beach with them every single day. He persistently begged me to go fishing at night at the beach with him every single night. My rationing of spoons told me that if I gave in and went to the beach tonight, I wouldn’t be able to move the next morning. Alternately, they told me that were I to go to the beach today, I won’t be worth a thing when we returned.

spoonisland

I felt like I was letting my son and my husband down. I felt like I was making my husband mad. I don’t know why I felt this way because he never made me feel like he was mad or anything. On the way down there we found this awesome radio station. It was a great mix of older country music and really old country music. Mostly, the music I grew up with. I am a music lover and I love all music. Rap, pop, rock, country, classic rock, punk, heavy metal, you name it, I love it. On the way down the song, “Different” by Kenny Chesney came on. It caught me off guard. I can’t begin to explain why, but it made me cry. And cry…and cry…

There I was, staring out of the window, hoping no one else realized I was balling crying. I couldn’t hide it well. My husband asked me “are you crying?” “What are you crying for?” I told him that I had no idea. And this did make him mad. But I still don’t know what made me cry like that.

Something about being told you have an incurable disease that may eventually lead to your early death makes you see your entire life different. It makes you see your entire future different for sure. It leaves you on an emotional roller coaster ride that you can’t get off of. I have always had a quirky reply to my kids when they say “that’s not fair”. I have always told them that the fair only comes once a year. You buy your tickets, you ride your rides, and that’s all the fair you’re going to get in this life.

Now, I’m getting my moneys worth out of this ticket to this lifelong roller coaster ride.  The highs are rare, the lows are frequent, the upside-down and twisting is constant. My roller coaster ride doesn’t have an attendant. There is no way to turn it off or make the ride end. The person in control of it is in God’s hands. It’s up to Him, me, doctors, and support. IMG_3737

One of the days we were down there my husband talked me into going to play putt putt golf. Side note: I despise putt putt golf. But we went and I have to admit I had a blast. When we got there I quickly realized we were into way more than I originally thought. This place had an arcade, two Farris wheels, bumper cars, bumper boats, and a crazy house, among other things. The golf was inside in black lights. I didn’t win, but I did in my heart. I was having fun. Fun is something that seems hard to attain when you’re in constant pain.  We had a blast. But the trip was much longer than I thought it would be. And my body started to fail me towards the end. My son wanted to ride the bumper boats one more time before we left. I had just started to dry out from the first ride, but you only live once. Something that is much more apparent to me these days.IMG_3745

He also had to go turn his tickets in for a prize at the arcade. I asked my husband if I could ride the roller coaster while they went and did that.  So I did. I rode that roller coaster by myself. And I felt so alive. I felt so free. I felt so content. The ride was fast and short, and rickety. I don’t know why this one ride made me worry I may get sick and lose my cotton candy. Another childish thing I had done that day. I haven’t eaten cotton candy in forever.  It was so good!

My take away from the beach is this: Live every day like you are a kid again if you are able. I’m not, so this rare day wore me out. I didn’t find my fountain of youth, but maybe I did find a sprinkle of it.

I was ready to come home and see my doggies. They missed me as much as I missed them. I felt so bad for leaving them. They don’t understand. But they’ve already forgiven me.  I wish I could forgive myself as quickly as they can.

Advertisements

July’s Abscence

warriorI haven’t been on here and written much on my blog. I have a lot of reasons why. The first reason is METHOTREXATE! This medication is the Devil and creates the atmosphere of Hell inside your body. I know that its intention is to suppress my immune system and keep it from fighting my body, but it is starting to feel like it kills whatever your immune system hasn’t already battled.

I’m hoping my body will eventually get used to the medication and the bad effects will somewhat diminish.  I start to recover and feel a little better around Friday. So for Friday and then Saturday morning I am back to normal, or my version of normal which still includes pain. Then Saturday I take these 4  Methotrexate pills and the battle begins again.

methcanOn top of the awful side effects of this Satan derived “treatment”, I have started working. I love my job. I am able to work around my schedule and it isn’t a hard job to learn or do. I feel like I should be working during any spare time that I have because I never know when I am going to be unable to interact with the world around me or go down for the count with this disease and side effects.

Another side effect of the disease and/or medications is my inability to sleep. I don’t quite understand it, but I can be so tired and want so badly to go to sleep, but when I lay down I CAN NOT get any sleep. I take Ambien, which is obvious if you have read any of my late night posts. But I ran out of them this week and I was also out of refills. I contacted my primary care physician Monday to inquire about a refill. I had an appointment with them Thursday.  They wouldn’t call the medication in until I was seen. I understand it is a controlled substance. But they have been prescribing this to me for nearly two years. By the time I got there on Thursday I was ill. I was mad at the world. I was mad because I was tired and I couldn’t sleep. breakdown

I started my conversation with the doctor by telling her that I was sorry, but I can’t think straight because I haven’t slept in 3 days. She assured me that she would be sending my Ambien in along with some other stuff she was going to try since my insurance wants $480 a month for Lyrica.  Again, I ended the conversation reiterating my need for my Ambien TODAY. She again, told me I would get it.

I had a late appointment. The pharmacy closes at 7:00 pm. I went to Walmart to get this promised medication and it had not been sent it. All of the other medication had. I called the doctors office again. I was told that the doctor had to sign off on it since it was a controlled medicine. The doctor I had seen was a practitioner. Well, 7:00 rolled around and still no sleeping medicine. At this point, I could spit fire and nails. I literally cried right there in Walmart.

I am not a crier. I just don’t cry in public usually. I am the type of person who will wait until everyone’s asleep and then lay in bed and cry.  I know I shouldn’t keep my feelings bundled up to myself, but I feel as if I appear weak if I cry in front of anyone. Don’t ask me why.

In addition to me not being able to get the Lyrica, my rheumatologist advised me to quit taking the muscle relaxers and Neurontin and didn’t give me any refills of them either. Nor would she refill my Ibuprofen. Ibuprofen is fine, I can get that OTC. The other two, not so much.

So here I am, in pain, now sick from the Devil medicine, with absolutely NO pain medication, NO sleep medication, NOTHING! To say I had a come-apart would be an understatement. Mixed connective tissue disease and rheumatoid arthritis are enough for me to have to deal with. I am going through a lot with it. Is it too much to ask the doctors to DO THEIR JOB? It is so aggravating.

methotrexatepFinally, around 4:00 pm on Friday my Ambien was called in and I got some good sleep last night. My spirits are up a little more today. But today is a Methotrexate day so we’ll see how long that lasts.

I hate to be a Debbie Downer in my posts, but I felt a need to rant and vent about it.

I hope you all have a great weekend!

How To Begin a Work-From-Home Search

workathomeAs many of you know, I have been on a mission to find work from home to support my family and medical bills. I have been at my wit’s end with it and I have searched for what feels like years. In reality, I have only been hard at it for about 3 months. But still, 3 months is 3 months. Because I now have some knowledge of the many different opportunities out there, I felt a need to write about it in hopes to help someone else out.

 

Now I’m not getting rich over here. Not in the least. But, I am making an okay hourly rate doing a job that isn’t very challenging. And the best part –I do it in my pajama’s while watching TV.  After a little time of vigorously looking for reputable work-from-home opportunities, I felt defeated. I had applied for so many, and I would get accepted to some only to find out the pay wasn’t worth the time.  I have come across so many scams that I can’t list them all. Some of these scams seem so legit until all of the sudden it’s so apparent that they’re not, that you feel like a royal idiot.

ratraceFinally, last month I was reading comments on a post that showed up in my newsfeed on Facebook. The original post was, indeed, another scam. I learned very quickly to read the comments on listings such as this before gullibly trusting the pitch. I found a couple of posts that talked about one website they had found to be the best, scam free, work from home portal. That site is www.ratracerebellion.com. You can thank me later. Go ahead and sign up for e-mail notifications with them. They’ll send you daily e-mails on the newest, best listings. Some of these fill up fast so you will want to stay on top of them. I made it a job to find a job.  I was finally getting somewhere when I started to apply for these jobs. I was taking tests left and right and I was finally hired by a company called Appen. Now, this company isn’t the greatest in the world, but it does pay. The testing for the jobs they offer is long and a little confusing.

upworkimage

I worked for them for about two weeks until I found another, better paying job. Here is another little nugget that offers hundreds of work-from-home opportunities. This is the one I am currently using to pay the bills: www.upwork.com

When you sign up with Upwork there will be some tests you can take to help kick-start your profile. Don’t worry, if you don’t make a good score on a test you don’t have to include it in your profile.  You will also want to fill out your work history and write a small bio about yourself. Upload a picture. You don’t HAVE to have a picture, but when you are working for people you will never meet in person, they want to be able to put a face to your name.

I have been scammed once on Upwork. I got an invitation from a company who wanted to hire me and they wanted to talk to me on Google Hangouts about the job. The pay started to sound too good to be true and my guard went up. Then the so-called employer told me that they wold be sending me a computer and a check to have the software installed on the computer. They said I was to take the check to the bank and deposit it and send them a picture of my deposit slip once I had. DING! DING! DING! DING! This round was over for me! The next day I received a check by FedEx for $4,500.00. The guy who I had spoken with about this job the day before was now calling me repeatedly. I told him that I would deposit the check once I received the laptop from them. That only made sense to me. I also told him that I would not, under any circumstances, send a copy of my deposit slip to him or anyone else. That check is still collecting dust somewhere. So the takeaway from this for me was to make sure that whoever you are dealing with on Upwork has verified payment and has actually already paid some other people within the Upwork community.

 

To get work through Upwork you have to send the employers proposals. Some jobs are for a flat rate fee and some are for hourly work. You will see how much they have budgeted for the jobs. Keep in mind that Upwork makes a percentage of what you make and it will be deducted out of your pay once the work is completed. This may scare a lot of people off, but I look at it this way… I would rather give my banking information to one company with a more reputable name than to hundreds of different companies any day. The fee’s that they take are as follows:

  • 20% for the first $500 you bill a client across all contracts with them
  • 10% for total billings with a client between $500.01 and $10,000
  • 5% for total billings with a client that exceed $10,000

This sounds like an awful lot, I know. But if you factor this into your proposals you defeat the problem before it ever becomes a problem.  Also, you can renegotiate pay while working for a client. There is a plethora of help to be found from the Upwork community as well.

If you are beginning your journey to find work-from-home jobs, I hope my approach will help you find your way. A lot of really great jobs require you to have worked from home before. This seems to be the best way to get that experience added to your resume’ that I have found.

I have also been using a lot of different reputable sites to do survey’s and coupon type apps. Again, here you will find a lot of sites are scams. I won’t delve too much into this in this article because that may get lengthy, but I will leave the ones I use to make the most here. Please use these links I have listed because with the majority of these companies, you make money from referrals. Also, the people you refer get a nice starting bonus.

Swagbucks 

Pinecone Research

Ibotta

PointClub

iPoll

Vindale Research

Inbox Dollars

Shopkick

Panel App

Yaarlo

I will update this list because there are more. Happy money maker hunting!

 

Thoughts on Methotrexate

I stated that in the end of May I went back to my rheumatologist. I forgot to mention the new game plan. Imagine that. My ADD butt forgetting to post an update.

image1 (1)

We came to the conclusion that the root cause of my rashes was the Plaquenil. She also said that many of my painful areas are trigger areas for fibromyalgia. So here’s what we did as far as meds go:

Stop taking Plaquenil immediately and give it three weeks to allow it to get out of my system. After that period I will start taking Methotrexate.

Stop taking Gabapentin and Flexaril and replace it with 75mg of Lyrica twice a day.

My three weeks will be up Monday. From what I have read, the Methotrexate doesn’t look like a whole lot of fun. I’m interested in hearing from any fellow spoonies who take it and see how it has helped you and what drawbacks you have. Lyrica didn’t have much if any, effect on me. (As usual, my Ambien is beginning to have one on me as I type)

gumprain1

To make matters worse, I’ve apparently, unbeknownst to me, moved to the Amazon rain Forrest. It has been raining for nearly 4 months now. Rainy days get average people down, but they take away spoons from people like me. It’s been rough. I have already been complaining about the rain and then Cindy brews up and brings in more rain than I have seen in a long time, if not ever.

gumprain

Back to medicines, what do you do to get the cost of your medications which do not come in generic form down? I need advice so that I don’t have to take out a 2nd mortgage or anything next time I visit the pharmacy. I hope you all have a dry and great weekend.

 

Goodnight!

A Labor of Love and Pain

Jun. 5, 2017DeliveryDay
Well, it is once again that time of year. The time when I become even older than the ancient age I already feel. Respectfully, 37 is not that old unless you’re a teenager looking up. With the coming of my birthday comes other dates of remembrance. My first born son and I nearly share a birthday. His is on the 12th. Mine is the 11th. I will never forget my 22nd birthday. I was the most nervous human being on the planet. Suffice it to say I didn’t exactly enjoy that birthday. I was to be induced at 5 am the following day. So there wasn’t a doubt in my mind about what was to unfold that next day at the crack of dawn. I couldn’t eat past 8:00 pm so my birthday dinner was put off until 7:30ish and I scarfed down a big juicy steak, baked potato, and macaroni and cheese which I would later regret. You see, being 21 or 22 years old makes you think you know everything, but you learn the hard way that you most certainly do not. 
I had failed to ask important questions prior to the delivery date. Questions I assumed were givens. Ones like:
1. Will you be giving me an episiotomy?
2. Will I poop on myself?
3. What steps will you take to ensure that I won’t poop on myself? 
4. How long will I have to push?
5.  At what point do you decide I have tried to push too long?  
6. How do you ensure the placenta has been delivered entirely?
Let me explain:

1. I had read about the episiotomy and to me, it seemed pretty cut and dry, pun intended. An episiotomy is an incision made so that your nether region doesn’t rip to shreds when pushing an entire human being out of your who-ha.  From all of the literature I had read, it was apparent to me that this would be done and was routinely done in this day in time. I was wrong. Apparently, I got an old school doctor. 

2. I had also read that it was normal for people to have a bowel movement during delivery and not even know they had done so. I further read that this would cause no harm to the baby and other than embarrassment from the father of the child knowing this had taken place there should be no worries. In this aspect, my doctor was not so old school. The first thing I was instructed to do at 4:30 am after a late steak dinner the night before was to administer myself an enema.  Let’s just say that an enema at the crack of dawn following a birthday steak dinner and accompanied by severely rumbled nerves is nothing anyone wants to be part of. 

3. See number 2, and no, I didn’t poop on self after #2, again, pun intended.

4. I am aware that no two deliveries are the same. Some women barely make it to the hospital on time before they’re spitting their babies out. Some women have already decided ahead of time that they are going to have a c-section. Me? I just wing it. My mother had assured me that once I start pushing it goes fast. She had ensured me that it only takes about 15 minutes to push before I would see my handsome little man. She had also told me that I would only feel the first few contractions and that wasn’t the case at all either. As soon as they started my IV Pitocin and got me hooked up the all of the leads that would record my contractions the pain started. And I had sent my son’s father back to the hotel room while I dealt with my enema ordeal. I didn’t feel the need for an audience for that. So once I had supposedly been squared away my mom trekked back to the room to retrieve my father and son to be’s, father. She hadn’t made it very far down the hall before I was frantically attempting to call her back. I guess I was very close to going into labor all on my own without the help of the Pitocin and those contractions HURT! I had yet to be given any pain medication and as is usually the case, the nurse didn’t believe I was really in pain yet. It was that sort of pain where you’re not sure if you should just try to be real still or move around a lot in hopes to ward it off. 
Finally, they brought some pain medication in and not long after this young man came in the give me my epidural. He was accompanied by an instructor who was trying to explain to him exactly where the needle should go. This made me feel uneasy and then the little guy asked me if this was my first epidural. I told him yes, yes it is my first to which he replied, “mine too”. I sat straight up and turned around and looked at him and his instructor and said, “I’m sorry, but no it’s NOT!” “NOT TODAY!” I hate I cut into his learning time, but that just wasn’t an area of my body that I felt comfortable being practiced on.
I was having contractions in my groin area but those weren’t as painful as the ones in my stomach. After the epidural, I was much more comfortable. Once I was dilated enough the doctor made his appearance and told me I was ready to push. He then pinched me on either side of my private area and asked me if I could feel it. I told him yes, you pinched my left side, and then yes you pinched my right side. He looked dumbfounded and called for a second injection of something in my epidural. He performed his pinch test one more time which I still felt. He then called for more pain meds in my IV. By this time I was as high as a Georgia Pine. I began pushing. 20 minutes later I growled to my mother “I THOUGHT YOU SAID 15 MINUTES, I THOUGHT THE WORST WAS OVER?” I sounded like something off of “The Exorcist” movie. At about the one hour point the doctor told me I was almost there. In my head, this meant the head was out and one or two more pushes and wa-la, a baby would be here. I quickly discovered that I could see everything that was going on down there in the reflection of the television on the wall. No body part what-so-ever was out. At this point, I was beginning to pop blood vessels in my eyes and forehead from pushing so hard for so long. Three (3) hours and forty-seven (47) minutes later I finally had my baby boy. I was shaking so bad that I couldn’t even hold him. My teeth look like I am wearing braces in all of the pictures because they were chattering so fastly.brandnewbrady


5. So, at this point, I was fairly mad at the doctor. I had never heard of anyone pushing for nearly 4 hours. I thought I had prepared myself for the worst pain imaginable, but I had not. I haven’t mentioned it yet but the pain medication and the epidural never worked for anything below the belt. It was as if there was some nerve being blocked and the medication wasn’t able to pass to that area. I told the doctor this repeatedly. Also, that episiotomy thing I thought was a given was never done. I could feel it slowly ripping throughout this entire elongated process. Also, when you have just spent so much of your energy trying to push a human out there is very little left to then deliver a placenta. I tried. I gave forth everything else I had and delivered it. Or so I thought. Aside from a scene off of “The Nutty Professor” which I will not explain because I have already gotten personal enough here, all was well with baby and momma. We went home after the normal 3-day stent.
And this is the point in the story where things really start to get scary.

Home with baby and feeding around the clock as normal. He really was a good baby although I wouldn’t realize how good until the birth of my youngest child. But something still wasn’t right with me. Initially, I blamed it on the pain medicine and lack of sleep. I have always been a fair skinned person. But this was taking pale to a whole new level. I was ghost white. And I was bleeding and passing blood clots the size of tennis balls. A week later I went to the ER and was admitted for 4 days. I was never given a reason for the blood passing other than that a little bit of placenta may or may not have been left. I was sent home and given instructions to wear these huge pads and take these pills made by Satan himself. These pills caused me to have contractions. I wasn’t explained this before leaving the hospital. The contractions were in hopes of expressing this bit of placenta and putting an end to this perpetual bleeding to death. They did not work. A week later I was in the bathtub and it quickly turned red and I nearly passed out. My aunt, who was a nurse and lived next door, instructed me to lay down in the bathroom with my feet elevated over my head until the ambulance got there. So I did. I laid butt naked on the floor of my tiny single wide trailer until they arrived. It was so embarrassing. This time my aunt went to the hospital and spoke with the head nurse to see what the doctor’s plans were this time for me. He wanted to admit me and watch and wait again. My aunt, who til this day doesn’t know how truthfully thankful I am of her for this and other things, told that nurse that she needed to speak to her supervisor and then told them that enough was enough. She told them I was not leaving here without a D&C. She further went on to ask why this doctor didn’t seem to give two flips about this and wanted to continuously send me home. She told my aunt that he just hasn’t been the same since his daughter was killed in that car wreck last year. Umm…excuse me… I’m real sorry for your loss and all, but that doesn’t mean it’s okay to kill me too. If you can’t accurately treat your patients without dang near killing them then you probably should take some time off. NOW. Because to me, this alone was the reason for ALL of the hardships I had encountered. This was why I had nutty professor lips and no episiotomy. This is why I was allowed to push for nearly 4 hours. This was why I hadn’t yet gotten to truly enjoy the gift of motherhood. But once this was done, I got to love my baby with no interruptions. And I thoroughly loved and still love being a Mom!
So to sum this post up, this is our birth week. It is my birth week because I celebrate the day of my birth and also the day I first gave birth. And it is his birthday also. Which will always trump mine and cause mine the be somewhat overlooked, but that’s okay.
It is also the Month of the one year anniversary of my grandmother’s passing. It doesn’t seem like it has already been a year. Putting that one year mark on things seems to insinuate that enough time has passed for the pain to no longer be new. But the pain is still new and it still hurts. I don’t think it will every feel any less significant.

Continue reading

Talk to the Hand

I feel the need to post about the joy of motherhood. It is so rewarding, yet so frustrating at times. I know at some point these kids are going to realize they aren’t know-it-all’s, but until then, I guess we’re just going to argue about it. Constantly. At what point do you decide that continuing to argue is doing absolutely no good?

I feel as if I am failing at teaching a lesson if I allow them to believe whatever asinine thing started the discussion. But they’re so hard-headed. And it needs to be pointed out that when you have a chronic illness you are already dealing with so much of your own crap, that your tolerance level for these aspects of life is significantly low.

knowitall

Men, namely my husband, will tell you, “I wouldn’t put up with that crap.” I have a different way of viewing these things. Yes, I don’t think that it’s right for the kids to talk back, and the tone in which they use is a pre-cursor to how the situation is going to unfold. But we want to raise kids to be leaders and think for themselves. Sometimes this means allowing their opinion to be heard, but it doesn’t make it okay for them to treat you like a registered dummy.

When I was growing up there would be no questions. I would be backhanded for this type of backtalk. Not all of it, but most of it. In this day and age, people don’t do that for fear of getting in trouble. I don’t share in that fear, but I do fear it because I’m not built like most humans. If I were to backhand one of mine, that hand would hurt for days if not weeks. With this disease, I bruise easily. I hurt more with a whole lot less effort. I also don’t move near as fast as I used to be able to.

My youngest has figured this out. The oldest has figured out that I’m almost certainly not going to inflict spankings or anything resembling one on him. They’ve figured it out, but are they taking advantage of it?

 

IMG_3433It really does hurt my feelings. I can’t say that to them because I try to hold the majority of my pain and suffering inside and out of their sight. When you have very little energy and are fatigued every minute of the day, you oversleep for everything, you have to skip cooking dinner multiple times a week, you start to lose the respect of your family. It’s not fair. And there seems to be no way to combat it without explaining what you’re going through. Likewise, there seems to be no way of explaining without sounding like a cry baby or an excuse maker. It’s a battle that isn’t capable of being won, it seems.

I know all parents struggle with whether they’re doing the right thing in certain aspects of their parenting journey. I am not trying to insinuate that I’m the only person struggling with this because I am also sick. I think this post is more of a rant. A rant to let everyone know that we are all struggling with this parenting thing. I just have an added aspect to mine.

 

Here is a video that I found to completely compliment this post.  Enjoy!

Diplomas for All

i283163839591050357._szw480h1280_Well, tomorrow is the day I get to report the non-progress I’ve been experiencing. I know I have said this a lot here lately, but I mean really? How much is it going to rain? For the love of God and all of my aching body parts let’s put an end to this unstable air PLEASE?

 

I have been fairly absent from the blogging scene lately. Between school ending and mother in law in the hospital and me feeling like the tin man needing several squeaks of oil, I’ve just been burnt out. Something I seriously don’t understand: why in the world do we need to have these grand graduations after every single school year? Why did I have to attend my 6-year-olds graduation, my 10-year-olds, and my 17-year-olds girlfriends all in one week? Hers I understand. Graduating high school is sort of a big deal, but the others are just part of life. Don’t get me wrong, I love seeing my kids be rewarded for doing good in school, but I didn’t have these graduations and all these goings on in my time and I think, I hope, that I turned out okay.

 

Maybe I’m old-fashioned, I don’t know for sure. But see, in my time passing school was something you were expected to do. Every. Single. Year. And if you did, then you did what you were supposed to the next grade up and if you didn’t then you got to try to get it right the next year in that same grade. I guess there’s not enough opportunity to build these little butter cups up in this day in age. We must give everyone a graduation and an award, just for participating. It’s sad really.

 

So now it’s summertime and there’s one GREAT thing about summertime and that is that we get to sleep in. I don’t have to get up and shuffle kids around to schools. I get to spend all day with these kids and trust me when I say this. I love them. I love them more than anything in this world. And still, I have to say those two sentences to myself several times a day to keep from hollering at them. They fight and argue and tattle tell ALL DAY LONG. And there’s a small period of time they’re being unusually quiet and liking each other for a moment I go in to check on them and they’ve made the biggest messes one could imagine. They can turn this house into a scene on hoarders in nothing flat. Which in turn I make it into a scene as well. But not on hoarders. On Snapped.

Continue reading